The Diary of Miss Emma Carew
by moogiesmigl
Summary: After the death of her mother, Emma Carew receives the gift of a diary from a man she has heard of but never met, Dr. Henry Jekyll, a scientist who aspires to do greater good. **Based on the Frank Wildhorn musical Jekyll & Hyde.
1. November 1882

_This is a story I began years ago when I was 14 or 15. I wanted to delve deeper into the character of Emma, and so this journal begins the day of her mother's funeral and before she has met Henry Jekyll. I want to show her growing up and realizing her feelings. In the future, I may come back to these entries and flesh them out a bit more.  
_

_Obviously this is based heavily on the musical by Frank Wildhorn. Original story belongs to Robert Louis Stevenson._

_I hope you enjoy, and please feel free to leave me your critique._

~*~*~*~

**Date: 6th November, 1882**

My name is Emma Carew.

This diary was a gift, although had the events of this day not occurred, I would not have received it. It was a present in the hopes that it might lighten my spirits. You see, today was my mother's funeral. She had been very ill for some time and finally passed away two days ago. She was only thirty-seven years of age and a very lovely, kindhearted lady. I know she will be missed by many, especially by myself and by Father.

When we arrived back at our house after the funeral service at the church, people were offering us their condolences; some had brought me gifts, as if somehow that could take away the pain and sadness I felt. However, I thanked them rather prettily for their kindness and consideration.

I knew everyone who was there except for the very person who gave me this diary, and I didn't get to meet him either. My father knows him quite well however; the man's father has been a patient at St. Jude's Hospital where my father, Sir Danvers Carew, is on the board of governors. His father has some sort of mental illness and won't say a word to anyone. Father says he wraps himself heavily in blankets and silence.

The man, the giver of this diary, I mean, is a doctor and also a scientist who does testing for the hospital. Well, rather he is an assistant in the laboratory, but he's made a good reputation for himself. His name is Dr. Henry Jekyll. Such an unusual last name, is it not? I think I should have liked to meet him. Father says he's a pleasant young man, and Mother once told me he was rather good looking too. He also has a brilliant mind, and it is said he is always dreaming of ways to improve life around the world.

He was at the funeral, and at the party, for lack of a better word, as well, but he did not approach me with the gift as did the others. Instead, he left it on a side table in the front hall and then disappeared. Father says Dr. Jekyll left a note, apologizing and saying that he would have given the diary to me himself, but he had suddenly thought of some rare drug that would help him develop some new medicine or something of the sort. So that's how Father knew who the gift was from.

But I digress. As I said before, this diary was given to me in the hopes that it might lighten my spirits. But I would rather not have this diary given to me for the reason it was if only my mother could still be alive. In fact, for a few childish minutes, I was reluctant to even let my pen touch the pages as though by accepting this diary I would truly ensure that my mother would never come back.

But this is _not_ a contract from the Devil; it's a diary given to me by a man of great kindness. He has given me a place to reveal my innermost thoughts and feelings, whatever they might be. Even if he had not given me this book I would still want to meet him. I have for a very long time, but it seems he is never available for dinner or some such arrangement; or when he is not preoccupied, we are. But I feel I shall meet him soon. You see, inside the covers of this diary, aside from blank pages, was a letter from Dr. Jekyll. I shall paste it here:

_To Miss Emma Carew,_

_We have never met before, but still I wish to offer you my deepest sympathies towards the passing of your mother. I, too, know how it feels to lose someone so dear to you. I hope that this diary will help you overcome this time of grief. I truly know that one can never be rid of the pain of loss, but perhaps it will help you live with it and continue on with your life, so full of prospect, I am certain._

_Also, I do believe that I must arrange a meeting with your father about a new method of treatment. Perhaps afterwards we will be able to have a proper introduction. I look forward to it._

_Sincerely,_

_Dr. Henry Jekyll_

_P.S. I am adding this to apologize for not being able to present this diary to you personally. I have just thought of a rare drug__ that could bring about the cure for a patient with a serious terminal illness. I must leave early in order to obtain it before the store closes. Too many times I've jumped about screaming outside for them to open for just a short while. Again, my apologies._

There is his letter. Even though I do not know what he looks like, I can picture a young man dressed for a funeral hopping about in front of the chemist's shop, shouting to be let in. And in the cold night air, no less! The thought makes me laugh, which I was certain I could never do again. But now it is late, and I should be getting to bed. This has certainly been a long entry. But in truth, it has made me feel a little better. Dr. Jekyll has given me the cure to becoming my old cheerful self again. I think I shall write him a letter saying how he has helped me.

**Date: 10th November, 1882  
**

My letter is on its way. It goes something like this:

_To Dr. Jekyll,_

_I wish to thank you for the wonderful diary you gave me. It is a much more thoughtful gift than the ten handkerchiefs I received from various people. Although I know it was kind of them to bring me something, having that many handkerchiefs about my person might give the impression that I am one of those people who has to blow their nose every ten minutes, which I am not, I might add._

_In any case, that's beside the point. Writing in the diary has already helped me to feel better. You are very clever when it comes to finding cures, even for a young lady who has lost her mother. I also found your comment about jumping outside the chemist's shop most humorous. You seem to know the perfect words to say to anyone in any situation. I, too, look forward to our meeting._

_Sincerely,_

_Emma Carew_

Just after it was posted, my words suddenly seemed very childish and unimpressive. I am fourteen and feeling as though I should seem less like a child and more like a young lady. My father has been treating me as though I were much younger since Mother died. He asks if I want a new doll, or something special for dinner, or if I want him to read me a bedtime story. I have not played with dolls for two years now and the last bedtime story I heard was the one I read to Mother, to soothe her nerves, the night before she died.

I know he is terribly upset, but I wish that he would treat me like the young lady I am. I really feel that I am being quite mature about all this.

And now for some exciting news: Dr. Jekyll is coming to meet with Father in two days. I shall finally be able to meet him!

**Date: 12th November, 1882  
**

I am so angry with my governess this evening. I hope for her sake she does not enter my room, for if she does I am ready to throw my brush at her!

Here is how I came to be so angry:

Today was the day Dr. Jekyll was meeting with Father, and I was promised that when their business was settled Father would call for me and then I would be introduced to the young doctor. After the introductions were made we would have tea together.

I was so very excited; I could hardly sleep last night! However, about fifteen minutes before he was due to arrive, my governess insisted we go for our daily walk right then. I was slightly annoyed, but she said we would walk while they discussed their business and be back in time for me to put on my nice dress and join them for tea. So we went for our walk through the park, which was quite lovely, and returned to the house an hour later. I went upstairs and freshened up; then sat in my chair waiting to be called down.

Two hours later, I was called down to supper. I had first thought that they'd had a curiously long meeting. But when I arrived at the table, only my father was waiting for me. He asked very concernedly how I was feeling, to which I replied that I felt perfectly fine. I then asked where Dr. Jekyll was and was given the answer that he had gone home an hour ago!

Well, you can imagine that I was quite surprised. When I asked why, Father said that my governess had told him when I had gone upstairs that I had been feeling ill and was going to take a nap.

I was astonished, and more than a little angry. Why would she lie to my father? Did she not want me to meet Dr. Jekyll? I shall find out.

**Date: 15th November, 1882  
**

It has taken me several days, but I have found the answer. My governess, it seems, is a relative of Mrs. Stride, who is the mother of Simon Stride. I do believe I heard from one of the maids that the Strides want for me and Simon to marry! I suppose they thought that my father wanted me to meet Dr. Jekyll as a potential husband. So they had my governess lie to my father, saying I was unwell so I would not be called down.

Dr. Jekyll sent me a note, which would appear to be a get-well card, but inside he wrote how he had suspected that I was perfectly fine as he had seen two females walking along the street and up the walk to our house, although he had not seen our faces clearly. But, of course, who else could it have been? And also, he said that when my governess reported to Father of my illness, she had been blinking very frequently and never looking directly at my father but at the floor or out the window.

He then proceeded to write of the dinner party my father was to have in a few days, and that he would see me then. I would rather meet him privately, but I suppose a meeting is better than none at all.

A thought has just occurred to me: has my father been looking for a husband for me? I hope not. The thought frightens me. I have heard stories of arranged marriages where the groom is at least ten years older than the bride. Most of those men take wives for their pleasure and entertainment. I do not want to be one of those brides. I want to marry a man who loves and respects me, like my mother did. She was quite lucky; I hope I will be too.

**Date: 16th November, 1882  
**

I don't have much time to write today; I just wanted to note that my governess has been dismissed and Father is going to find a new one. I hope she is kind and not planning to prevent things from happening in my life.

**Date: 22nd November, 1882  
**

After three days of Father meeting with women applying for the job and talking with them, I finally have a new governess. Her name is Annette Baxter. She is very pretty and kind. She speaks very softly and gently and her words are always delicately chosen. She has beautiful dark brown hair and although she keeps it neatly tucked into a bun during the day, at night it comes tumbling down in ringlets to the middle of her back. She has lovely green eyes. I wish I had her eyes; mine are blue. Plain boring blue. She thinks I'm pretty though; she told me that as she brushed my hair before I went to bed.

Miss Baxter also thinks it's wonderful that I keep a diary. She says it shows intelligence. I told her how I received it as a gift from Dr. Jekyll and then continued on to express how much I want to meet him. She agrees with me that he sounds very charming. Now she wants to meet him as well!

Only five more days until the dinner party. Miss Baxter is going to help me prepare for it.

**Date: 23rd November, 1882  
**

Miss Baxter says I may call her Annette. Four more days until the dinner party.

**Date: 28th November, 1882  
**

Is there some unknown force trying to prevent me from meeting Dr. Jekyll? Or maybe it's known to me, but I must discover which force it is. Or maybe I just have bad luck, although I don't really believe in luck.

I am so angry over the events of last night. Here is what happened:

Annette and I had spent the morning shopping for any last minute items that were needed. We arrived home, ate lunch, and then went upstairs to bathe. While in our dressing robes, Annette fixed my hair and then I brushed through hers. After our hair was done, the maids helped us into our dresses; mine was royal blue and Annette's was emerald green. Annette wore a gold chain about her neck, and Father had allowed me to wear Mother's pearl necklace.

When we had come downstairs, Father, in his very handsome suit, told us how lovely we were. Then the guests began to arrive, and it was very hard to contain my excitement. Every time a young man walked in, my heart began to pound wildly. But it would either turn out that he was accompanied by a young lady or not handsome.

The Strides arrived, and instantly Simon was pushed in my direction by his mother, nosy old woman that she is. Simon is eight years older than me, with dark sandy hair, pinched cheeks and the beginnings of a mustache. Even though he is so old, his mother still bosses him around. When I was younger, I thought him handsome and fancied him. It didn't last long, however; he may have been good looking but he is very loud when it comes to expressing his opinions and he does so in an obnoxious manner. I do not like Simon and have no intention of marrying him, so I was annoyed that he was keeping me from watching people arrive.

I still tried to be polite, of course. He told me how lovely I looked and asked of my well-being. This continued on for awhile, easily the most tedious conversation in my life, until Annette saw me yawning quite obviously and pulled me away from Simon, apologizing for stealing me away. Honestly, I could not thank her enough!

As it turned out Lady Beaconsfield, who is on the board of governors with my father, had requested to hear me play the piano. Annette and I played a duet we had been practicing for the last few days. As the guests gathered around the piano, I found my eyes wandering over their faces, looking for that handsome face of Dr. Jekyll's. Somehow I felt I would know him the instant I saw him. But Annette's elbow bumped mine and I had to focus on the keys once more, lest I should ruin the piece.

After we had received applause and praise for our musical talents, Father announced that our dinner was ready and that we should all gather into the dining room. As I passed through the doorway, I noticed Mrs. Stride motioning for me to join her, but Annette tugged me along by my elbow to our seats near the head of the table, where Father sat. I was very grateful for the assigned seating.

Our cook had outdone himself; the meal was lovely. But I could hardly concentrate on the delicious taste of the roast; I was puzzled. Dr. Jekyll had assured me we would meet tonight. So why had Father not introduced us? Or why had the doctor not approached me? Again, I found myself shamelessly casting glances around the table, searching once more for the face I did not know. Instead I met Simon's gaze; he was staring at me quite intently, and quite rudely, I thought. At once, I snapped my eyes back to my plate.

After dessert, we were ushered back out to the main hall and the parlor. Annette and I had one more piece to perform. I would sing, and she would accompany me on the piano, joining her voice with mine at the chorus. As everyone began to gather once more, I felt a lump forming in my throat. Performing at my father's dinner parties had never made me nervous before, but now I was shaking. All I could think was, "What will Dr. Jekyll think? Will he like my singing? Will he think I'm awful?"

Annette began the introduction and I had no choice but to open my mouth. I guess my nerves must not have shown, because my voice escaped my mouth without so much as a quiver. The guests smiled approvingly. It has long been passed around my father's social circle that I had inherited my mother's musical abilities.

The song seemed to go on forever, but at last, our soprano notes faded and the piano struck the final chord. The guests were even more exuberant with their praise this time, approaching me in turn and congratulating me on this triumph.

"Ah, my dear," said Mrs. Stride, seizing my hand with hers, "that was simply divine. I always wished my daughter would show the slightest hint of musical talent, but the girl is a dry well, I'm afraid. I can only hope that my son will one day marry a woman with _your_ abilities." She gave me a pointed smile and then sauntered over to my father, telling him the exact same thing. Subtle!

Suddenly there came a loud knock at the door. Our butler, Rivers, answered, and returned a moment later with someone behind him. "Dr. Jekyll has arrived, Sir Danvers," he said grandly. My heart pounded wildly and I craned my neck to see the man behind Rivers.

Suddenly there came a loud gasp from Annette, followed by the sound of shattered glass. I felt cold suddenly, and soon realized why; someone had bumped Annette, and her wine glass had flung from her hand, spilled its contents on my new dress, and crashed to the floor. "Oh, Emma, I am so sorry!" she said, her hand flying to her mouth.

Mrs. Frost, our housekeeper, came over knowingly with some napkins, blotting the wet stains upon my sleeves. "You must hurry upstairs, my dear, and change out of that damp dress," she said, and took me by the elbow and led me out of the parlor and to the kitchen, where we climbed the back staircase and entered my room. The wine had not only dampened my gown, but landed in my hair as well, so I smelled strongly of alcohol. Mrs. Frost insisted that I bathe again, because it was unreasonable for a young lady to stink of the bottle, as she said.

As she lathered my hair and scrubbed my scalp raw, I could feel the anger churning in my stomach. I knew it was not Annette's fault, but I was so furious at being denied the chance once again to meet Henry Jekyll.

Finally, I was dubbed suitably cleaned and allowed to put on my undergarments. As Mrs. Frost combed through my hair, she assured me over and over that she would get my gown clean as new again. I was about to put on a fresh gown when Mrs. Frost said, "Oh, no, my dear, it is time you went to bed."

I was stunned. I had expected to return to the party once I had freshened up. "But it's not even late," I protested.

"You've had enough excitement for one night; now into bed with you," she said. She approached me with my nightgown, meaning to slip it on over my head, but I dodged her. "Miss Emma, don't be unreasonable."

"I am going back down to the party!" I cried. "I was promised I would meet the doctor!"

"You'll meet him some other day," she said, as if to soothe me.

"Mrs. Frost, I will go to bed when my father tells me I must. But until he does, I am returning to that party," I told her, drawing myself up.

With a heavy sigh, she replaced the nightgown upon the bed. "As you wish," she said, and was about to leave the room when Annette entered.

"Oh, Emma, I am so very sorry about your dress! Whoever it was bumped me so hard I almost lost my balance!" she said. "But other than that, it was a splendid affair."

"What gown should I put on, Annette?" I asked her.

Her forehead creased. "What for? The party is over," she said. Mrs. Frost took one look at me and left the room, shutting the door behind her with a gentle click.

"What?" I cried.

"Oh, Emma, I'm so sorry. I know you wanted to meet him so very much, and he did apologize quite profoundly that he was so late in arriving…" She trailed off.

"You met him?" I asked.

"Oh, yes. Your father was right; he is such a charming young man, and so handsome too!" she said, smiling at the thought. "And, oh, the brilliant things he has to say!"

My head became a blurring of thoughts. Father had promised me I would meet the doctor over and over again, and over and over again, circumstances arose that prevented our meeting. And yet, here stood Annette, whom I had thought my friend, who had now started telling me the details of their conversation!

I sank onto my bed, which caused Annette to cease her chatter. "Emma, are you unwell?" she asked with genuine concern.

"I feel ill. I should rest now," I lied.

"Oh, of course. Sleep well, and I will see you in the morning," she said, leaving the room in the same fashion as Mrs. Frost.

Once she had gone, I cried myself to sleep. All I could think was Mother would never let this happen.

But now, I have grown tired recounting what has happened. It makes me angry and sad all over again.


	2. December 1882

**Date: 1st December, 1882**

The Christmas season is upon us, but I feel no joy or goodwill towards anyone. I am still cross about what happened the other night, and I fear I have been poor company for those around me. In fact, the day after the dinner party, I claimed I was ill and spent the entire day sulking in my room, admitting no one but Mrs. Frost with my meals. I am too angry with Annette to see her right now, foolish though it may seem.

Is it so unreasonable of me to be this upset? Not about Annette, but that every chance I have to meet the doctor, something happens. I feel as though I am being robbed of something marvelous, and I have not even glimpsed the man's face! It seems strange I should feel so strongly, but I do. There is nothing more in my life that I want, other than to have my mother with us again, than to meet this man.

**Date: 8th December, 1882**

It has been awhile since I last wrote. I had not felt much like writing this past week.

It took Annette a few days to earn my forgiveness. Since the dinner party, I had resumed calling her Miss Baxter and only spoke to her when necessary. It was rude and childish, I know, but I was so very angry that she had done the one thing that I have not.

It is not fair. It may seem silly of me to get so emotional over something as trivial as meeting a person, a person I may not even like in the end, but it has been the one thing I have looked forward to since my mother died. Dr. Jekyll cheered me up with his kind words; he made me laugh. And I want to meet the man behind the pen. As strange as it sounds, he is like a friend, a guardian, to me.

But no more. Annette and I are going for our walk in the park.

**Date: 10th December, 1882**

I have been left alone all evening while my father and Annette attended another dinner party, only for adults. And, of course, Dr. Jekyll was at this dinner party too. It has been the case with the last few social affairs, ones I was not deemed old enough to attend. Of course, Father must attend these events, and since Annette herself is from a family of higher standing, she is always welcome.

And then when they return home, Annette regales me with stories of her evenings with Dr. Jekyll; how he spoke with her, danced with her. It makes me feel slightly ill and very cross. Annette appears to be very fond of him, just from the few times they've met. It seems the Strides will have nothing to fear from the doctor, since he seems so very fond of Annette.

However, this does not change the fact that I refuse to become Emma Stride.

My blood is burning in my veins. I am going to bed. Tomorrow, I visit the hospital with my father. It will be a boring affair.

**Date: 11th December, 1882  
**

I am tingling all over, and though it has been hours, the smile has not left my face.

Here is what happened:

It promised to be a tedious business, visiting St. Jude's Hospital. I do not know why I had to go, but Father insisted that it was absolutely necessary for me to attend. Something about showing the people of London our family to be devoted patrons.

I do not like hospitals. They frighten me; I feel as though I can sense death floating through the corridors, claiming lives in the various wards. And then far off, I can hear the wails and moans from the ward of the mentally insane. It reminds me of the moans I heard from my own mother when the doctor pushed me from the room. My last memory of her is her thrashing about on the bed. Sometimes I still wake up in tears after dreaming about it.

Unfortunately, it was the insanity ward that we came to visit. Apparently, we were there to celebrate the research that had been done that could possibly cure many people. I felt absolutely ill as we walked down the corridor; the patients' cries grew louder as we drew nearer.

I was paying no attention to the speeches that were being made. Instead, my eyes began to wander around the dreary surroundings. There was a door, with a window, across the hall from the group of people I was touring with. It was the only room I had seen with a window where the screen was not pulled across the glass. Impelled by curiosity, I edged closer to the door. Inside the tiny room was a single bed, covered with layers of quilts, which were being fervently clutched by a thin man. His hair was gray and thin; his face etched with lines of age and sadness. I felt my heart twinge. He looked so very sad, so very lonely; I wished I could make him happy.

Suddenly he looked at me. At first I was frightened that he would begin to scream like some of the other patients, but he remained silent. And finally, I smiled at him. He did nothing but looked away, and began to stare intently at the wall, where the paper was peeling badly.

"Excuse me, miss," said a man's voice.

I whirled around, afraid I was about to be chastised for wandering away from my group. A tall young man stood before me, smartly dressed in a black suit with an impeccably crisp white dress shirt and accented with a dark red tie. His dark hair was smoothly tied back and his brown eyes gazed intently into mine. His face was so very handsome, I could not even try to describe it. He did not look at all like an aristocrat, so I assumed he must be middle class.

"I'm sorry," I said. "I didn't mean to cause trouble. It's just this man…he seems so very sad." It was then I realized that the group, including my father and Annette, had moved on. I was alone in the hallway with only this man.

The man nodded. "I wish I knew how to cure him," he told me. "It is what inspired me to become a scientist." He smiled at me suddenly, a warm smile. "I am glad to finally make your acquaintance, Miss Carew. It seems someone has transpired to keep us apart for whatever reason." And with that, he raised my hand to those smiling lips and kissed it. This young man was of course none other than Dr. Henry Jekyll. And the man I had thought sad was his father. Their eyes shared the same intensity, however different the emotion behind them.

"Dr. Jekyll," I said, but with no idea as to what I meant to say next.

"I had not expected to meet you here of all places," he said. "But I suppose a meeting is a meeting, no matter how it happens. What an unfortunate series of events have befallen you, Miss Carew!"

"It matters little now," I said, and then realized with horror that he might perhaps take that to mean I did not care about my mother's death. Quickly, I added, "I am glad to finally meet you. I have looked forward to it for so long. I have heard so very much about you."

"And I have heard much about you, from your father, and your charming governess Miss Baxter," he replied.

"Yes, Annette is fond of you," I said grudgingly. And with that remark, I realized I could not think of a single thing to say.

"She is a lovely woman. And very talented, too," he said. Somehow, this conversation was not what I had imagined. As glad as I was to finally meet Dr. Jekyll, I did not really wish to hear him talk about how wonderful my governess was. A twinkle appeared in his eyes then, and he added, "But I understand that her voice is nowhere near as heavenly as yours. 'Miss Emma Carew', they say, 'what a voice!' I am told you sing like an angel."

Well! I had not expected such a compliment! I could not help but blush fervently. "You are too kind," I managed to stammer in response.

"I am sure I would have more to say if I had the chance to hear you myself. It seems I arrived a moment too late," said Dr. Jekyll apologetically. "Of course, I was there to watch you leave the party. Those Strides are pesky, are they not?"

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"I suppose at your angle you would not have seen what occurred. Neither did Miss Baxter for that matter. In any case, that foolish woman, Mrs. Stride, nudged her husband at an opportune moment in order to cause the wine incident."

Mrs. Stride! I should have known.

"Did she really? The woman will stop at nothing," I said, shaking my head at her silly behaviour.

"And what exactly is she planning in that devious mind of hers?"

"Oh, she has wanted for Simon and me to be wed for years! She pushes him at me at every affair, hoping he will manage to win me over with his charms and that I will beg Father for us to be engaged!" I could not help scoffing indignantly.

Dr. Jekyll began to laugh. "And to achieve this, she forced her husband to drench you in wine?" he asked, suppressing his amusement. Somehow I did not feel like telling him that she thought that Dr. Jekyll might be her son's rival, and so I remained silent, only giving an innocent shrug as my answer. "Oh, the woman has no brain beneath that horrible wig of hers." I found this remark so funny that I began to laugh too.

The doctor checked his pocket watch after our laughter had subsided. "Well, Miss Emma, perhaps it is time to reunite you with your group. The speeches should be done by now," said Dr. Jekyll. He offered me his arm, and after a moment's hesitation, I took it, trying to hold back my girlish excitement.

The corridor where his father was a patient was remarkably quiet compared to the rest of the hospital, for soon the cries and moans began again. My distress must have shown because he soon asked me, "Are you alright?"

"The noises bother me," I confessed. "They remind me of my mother."

"It is sad when a parent passes away. I believe the passing of my own mother is what caused my father to become so ill," said Dr. Jekyll.

"Can nothing be done for your father?" I asked, remembering the pity I had felt staring at the pathetic shell of a man.

"I certainly hope so," replied Dr. Jekyll. "I refuse to believe that he is completely and utterly lost, as so many others are all too eager to tell me."

"I shall pray for your father, and that he may find his way," I told him. "Perhaps he just needs time to make his way back onto his path."

He smiled again. "Perhaps."

"Dr. Jekyll! I see you have found my wayward daughter!" said my father with a chuckle, striding towards us.

"Goodness, Emma, I had not even realized that you weren't beside me anymore! You had been so quiet all day!" exclaimed Annette. "Where on earth did you slip off to?"

"She granted one of her beautiful smiles to my father, and perhaps it brought some light to his day," replied Dr. Jekyll. "She has a tender heart, Sir Danvers."

"Just like her mother," said my father.

"And like you, Father," I added. "You mustn't pretend that you are without compassion. I learned from both of you."

My father laughed. "A little diplomat, isn't she?"

"No diplomacy, Father. Only truth," I insisted. "I do apologize for missing your speech."

"Nonsense! It would have bored you to tears. It sounds like you did something far better, in any case," said Father. "I strongly believe that all some patients need is to be shown a little kindness. We often have people from the church come to read poetry or play the piano for some of the calmer patients."

"A wonderful idea, don't you think, Dr. Jekyll?" asked Annette, looking intently at the doctor. I could see the blush on her cheeks.

"I'm sure it does help to some degree, but I believe even more must be done in terms of science and medicine in order for them to make a full and proper recovery," said Dr. Jekyll.

"Ah, Henry, let us not get into a debate today," said Father with a small smile. I did not doubt that he and the doctor had crossed this subject many times before. "It is the Christmas season, after all. Have you plans for the holidays?"

Dr. Jekyll gave a wistful smile. "Ah, no, Sir Danvers. Christmas is always a rather quiet affair for me. I usually stay home and share a bottle of wine with my good friend, Mr. Utterson."

"Ah, John! A good man," said Father, nodding his head vigorously. "Yes, sometimes it's pleasant to have a nice quiet holiday."

That was true enough, but Dr. Jekyll had seemed almost ashamed to admit that he had no family or other friends to spend the season with. I was beginning to realize that this year I was anxious to have my father's social circle to keep us company for the holidays, otherwise I should spend the time mourning the fact that Mother wasn't here with us. Somehow the prospect of being surrounded with many familiar people seemed very inviting. Perhaps Dr. Jekyll could use a large dose of Christmas cheer as much as I could.

"If it's not too presumptuous of me to ask," I began, "perhaps Dr. Jekyll would enjoy spending Christmas with us?"

"Oh, that's very kind of you, Miss Carew, but I could not impose on your father," said Dr. Jekyll politely.

"Impose? Nonsense, Henry! My daughter is quite right. Christmas is a time to celebrate, and the more the merrier! We should be delighted to have you join us Christmas Day; in fact, we insist! And do invite Mr. Utterson as well. You may share a bottle with me."

"When you put it that way, I suppose I have no choice but to accept your generous invitation," Dr. Jekyll replied with a smile.

"Splendid! We look forward to seeing you!" said Father. He withdrew his pocket watch from his waist coat. "Goodness, look at the time. I have a meeting to attend in half an hour!"

"Take the coach, Father," I suggested. "Annette and I can walk home from here. We did miss our walk in the park today."

"No, Emma, that is much too far for you ladies, and I would not have you walking alone here," said Father.

"If you are in a hurry, Sir Danvers, you should take your coach, and I shall insist the ladies take mine," offered Dr. Jekyll.

"Are you sure, Henry?" asked my father.

"Of course. I shall escort them there myself," said Dr. Jekyll. "I have some unfinished work in the laboratory to attend to before heading home. My coachman is sitting outside idly. I'm sure his horse is anxious to be moving."

"Well, that's kind of you, Henry. I do appreciate it," said my father. He took Henry's hand and shook it. "Thank you, Henry, and goodbye until Christmas." He turned to me and kissed my forehead. "I shall see you at home, Emma."

"Goodbye, Father," I replied.

He nodded and walked away from us briskly. Dr. Jekyll turned to us, saying, "If you will please follow me, ladies, I shall lead you to my coach." He led us outside. The weather had turned bitter cold, and there was a biting wind sweeping across the ground. It nearly blew my hat off, and I pulled my cape tighter under my chin. "Here we are, ladies," said the doctor, stopping in front of a handsome black cab hitched to a pair of mahogany horses that were anxiously stamping their hooves. "It was a delight to see you again, Miss Baxter," he said as he handed my governess into the coach.

"The feeling is mutual," said Annette brightly as she settled herself on the seat.

Dr. Jekyll turned to me. "And it was a true pleasure to meet you at least, Miss Carew," he said, raising my gloved hand to his lips and kissing it. I could feel the warmth of his breath through the glove and my skin tingled. "I look forward to seeing you again at Christmas."

"And I you," I murmured breathlessly. "Until then." He handed me into the coach then, and shut the door once my skirts were safely out of the way. He raised his hand in farewell as the coachman cracked the reins.

"How did you like the doctor, Emma?" asked Annette as the coach turned the corner away from the hospital.

"He's very kind," I replied. I had so much more to say about him, but I was reluctant to do so in front of Annette, as I know how fond of him she is. I merely wanted to think about him for myself, not listen to her recount every moment she had spent with him. I did not say another word about him to Annette, and now that I am alone in my room and everyone believes I am asleep, I can finally sigh and remember.

He was more handsome than I ever could have imagined. The strength of his features, the intensity in his eyes, the way his lips curl into an easy smile. Dr. Jekyll generates warmth and passion, and I feel my heart quivering at the mere thought of him. I do believe I shall have pleasant dreams tonight.

**Date: 14th December, 1882**

Due to my foul mood at the beginning of this month, I had forgotten just how close to Christmas we were, and I realized I had not even thought of presents for anyone!

Father and Mother always gave our staff extra wages and a good bottle of wine for their own dinner tables. No doubt Father will continue to uphold the tradition, but I want to add a little something on behalf of myself this year. I must start acting as a lady of the household, learning how to budget my allowance and give graciously to those around me.

Annette suggested I give each of them a wreath to hang on their doors, which I think is a splendid idea. I shall have to give them their gift early, of course, but I hope they will like it and smile when they return to their homes at night and see a sign of the season to greet them. I decided I should like to surprise them and have them hung myself by an errand boy who sometimes runs letters to the post for Annette.

As for the staff who live in the staff quarters in our house, I decided to give them each a poinsettia to brighten their rooms.

As for Father, I have embroidered some new handkerchiefs for him with his initials in navy blue thread. I also purchased a new leather wallet for him.

And for my dear Annette, I decided to give her a brooch of mine I had seen her fancying, wrapped in a square of red Chinese silk. It is a lovely brooch, and at first I was reluctant to part with it, but I decided Annette would love it more than I ever could. I wanted her to know I was no longer angry with her.

I am now pondering what I could possibly give Dr. Jekyll. I still barely know the man, but I want to give him at least a little gift. He has done me a great kindness by giving me this journal, and I have to repay him somehow. Somehow I cannot think of a single thing I could buy for him that seems proper.

I might have asked Annette for a suggestion, but I feel uneasy talking about Dr. Jekyll with her. She gets very flushed whenever he is mentioned, and I think she is more than just fond of him.

I suppose I shall have to keep thinking.

**Date: 16th December, 1882**

Today I presented the staff who live here with their poinsettias, although privately so as not to spoil the surprise for the remaining staff. Mrs. Frost asked me to help her find the best place for her plant and I followed her curiously into the staff quarters, as I had never been in that part of the house before.

While our maids share rooms, as our housekeeper Mrs. Frost has one of the larger rooms, as does our butler, Rivers. Mrs. Frost's room is impeccably tidy, her bed perfectly made and her wardrobe free of any speck of dust. She has a small table beside her bed with a lamp, and she told me she likes to knit or read before falling asleep. As she began fussing with finding a space amidst the picture frames on her dresser for her plant, I noticed the knitting project she had begun. "What are you knitting, Mrs. Frost?" I asked.

"Oh, just a scarf for one of the maids. She often goes to the shops for the cook, and those winds are biting," replied Mrs. Frost. "When she came back the other day, she looked frozen to the bone! A nice woolen scarf will keep her snug and warm, I should think."

The half-knitted scarf gave me an idea. "Is it hard to knit?" I asked.

"Oh, not at all, Miss Emma. I learned how to knit when I was just seven years old!" Mrs. Frost crinkled her nose. "Bless me, but that was a long time ago."

"Do you think I could learn?" I inquired.

"Well, of course you could! Anyone who's willing to learn can do it," she said. "I should be happy to teach you."

"How long would it take to knit a scarf like this one?"

"Oh, not long at all. Especially if you pick it up nice and quick, and you're a bright one, Miss Emma. Your mother taught you how to embroider in no time at all. You should have no trouble knitting." Mrs. Frost at last set the poinsettia down and turned towards me, one hand stroking her chin thoughtfully. "Perhaps I shall join you and Miss Baxter on your walk, and we can find some pretty wool for you. And then as you take your afternoon tea, I shall teach you."

"That would be wonderful, Mrs. Frost, thank you!" I exclaimed happily.

True to her word, we stopped in at a quaint little shop where Mrs. Frost bought all her wool. The family who owned the business had relatives in the country who sheared the sheep and cleaned the wool before sending it to the shop to be dyed and made into thick woolen threads. There was a rainbow of colors, and Annette and I both gasped in delight.

"Here, Miss Emma, this pretty blue would look lovely against your complexion," said Mrs. Frost.

"Oh, it's not for me, Mrs. Frost. It's a gift for someone," I replied.

"And who might that be?" inquired Annette.

"I can't tell," I said with a secretive smile. "It's a surprise." At last I spotted the color I wanted, a deep rich red. The wool was soft and thick, and I hoped that the scarf I made would be beautiful and warm.

Annette continued to regard me with curiosity as I made my purchase and as we walked home. At tea time, she took out her embroidery while Mrs. Frost taught me how to hold the knitting needles. By the end of the hour, I had knitted a length of the scarf as long as my hand and was feeling quite pleased with myself. I vowed I would work on it before bed and every day at tea time in order to have it ready for Christmas.

I hope Dr. Jekyll will like it.

**Date: 20th December, 1882**

We have been very busy preparing for Christmas, so I have not had much time to write. I sent the errand boy to hang up the wreaths today. I have also been working on the scarf for Dr. Jekyll but I am only a quarter of the way finished because I made several mistakes without noticing and then had to unravel the threads. I am worried that I will not finish it in time, so I told Annette that I shall not be able to take our daily walk. She said perhaps that was for the best, as it has been so cold the last few days we never walk for very long and we spend more time bundling up than we do actually outside.

I have no time to write anymore, not until the scarf is finished. Especially since tonight we are decorating our tree!

**Date: December 24th **

It is Christmas Eve, and thank goodness the scarf is finished. I am most pleased with it; I think it turned out beautiful. Mrs. Frost said it looked very nice, as did Annette. Father asked if I would make one for him, which I certainly will! I rather enjoy knitting, and I look forward to returning to the wool shop.

It is a shame I had not learned how to knit sooner, otherwise I should have knitted scarves for the poor as my act of Christmas charity. Ah, well. I shall knit them anyway. Winter lasts beyond Christmas, after all, and people still need warmth. I have two pounds that I will be placing in the charity box at the church this evening, so I hope God will know that I am thinking of those less fortunate at this time of year.

Tomorrow is our Christmas party, and I am anxious to see Dr. Jekyll again. Hopefully this time, I shall not be drenched in wine. I will have to keep my eye on the Strides!

**Date: 25th December, 1882**

Merry Christmas!

The morning is bright and beautiful, and as I look upon the joy in the streets beneath my window, I feel as though the miracles of the Lord are at work today.

We had a lovely breakfast of sausage and eggs and fresh baked scones. Then Father insisted we exchange presents. He is always excited to see how I react to his gifts, which are always wonderful.

Annette began by giving my father a pair of silver cuff links, and to me, a pair of beautiful new white satin gloves. "For you to wear this evening," she said.

I gave my gifts next, and Annette gasped at the brooch as I thought she would. I told her she must wear it this evening, and she fastened it on that very moment. Father showed his appreciation for his handkerchiefs by promptly blowing his nose on one, intending to make me laugh, which I did.

Father then presented us with our gifts. For Annette, a lovely hand mirror. For me, a beautiful wooden jewelry box. I began to thank him, but he stopped me and insisted I open the box. The inside was lined with rich red velvet upon which rested Mother's pearl necklace. I gasped in surprise. "Your mother would want you to have it, my darling," says Father. "I also had this made for you."

From his pocket he withdrew a golden locket, and inside were tiny portraits of my mother and father, which he fastened around my neck. I threw my arms around his neck and sobbed, "Oh, Father, thank you, they are such beautiful, wonderful gifts."

"You deserve the very best, Emma," he replied, stroking my hair.

Oh, dear, I hate to be abrupt but I must get dressed and ready for church. And as soon as we are back we have to start preparing for the party. It is only a few hours away!

~*~*~*~

The party was a wonderful success. Everyone told my father they had a lovely time.

Right after church, Annette began fixing my hair, brushing it at least one hundred times so that every strand shone. Since I am still not allowed to wear my hair up yet, she pulled the front parts of my hair back from my face and tied them back with a white satin ribbon. I had a new white dress with a red sash and beautiful lace adorning the neckline and ends of the sleeves. It even had a small train on the skirt, which was exciting because I have never had one before. I practiced walking back and forth across the hall many times so that I would not step on my skirt, enjoying the swish of the fabric across the polished wooden floors. I also wore the locket from my father and the new gloves Annette had given me. I looked at myself in the full length mirror and thought I looked very mature and elegant.

Father said I looked beautiful with tears in his eyes and I knew he was thinking I looked much like my mother, even if he did not say it. He had said it often enough when I was younger. He then promised me I could drink champagne when he gave the toast! If I had not been excited before, I certainly was now!

Annette came down the stairs, wearing the green dress she had worn to the dinner party in November, although she now wore her new brooch pinned along the neckline. It went very well with her gown, and Father and I told her she looked lovely too. Tonight would be the first time I met her family, as Father had invited them to join us.

I paced the house anxiously waiting for the first guests to arrive, which happened to be the Baxters. Annette looks just like her mother, though she inherited her father's brilliant green eyes. Her younger brother, Frederick, is a good looking man, although his lips are a little thin and his brow is a little harsh, making him look a bit cross. They are all very good and kind people.

More guests arrived then, and I don't know how on earth my mother ever managed to remember everyone's names. She was a perfect hostess, whereas I stood by my father and smiled at everyone who came in while he greeted them. I even managed to remain polite when the Strides approached us and Simon made a big show of kissing my hand. It may have just been my imagination, but I felt certain that my glove was wet afterward!

Dr. Jekyll arrived shortly after the Strides wandered away from us, and I had to hold in a little gasp. He looked so very handsome in his dark suit. I felt as though no other man in the room held a candle compared to him. The man who had come in with him followed him over to where my father and I stood.

"Henry, my boy! Glad to see you!" said my father, shaking first the doctor's hand and then the other man's. "And John, always a pleasure to have your company."

"Thank you for inviting me, Sir Danvers," replied Mr. Utterson. He regarded me then and took my hand in his. "A pleasure to meet you, Miss Carew."

"Mr. Utterson, we are happy to have you here with us," I said smiling.

"You look lovely this evening, Miss Carew," Dr. Jekyll said as he took my hand in his. I felt shivers down my spine when his lips brushed across the back of gloved hand.

"You're too kind, Dr. Jekyll," I said in reply, feeling the blush creep across my face.

"I suppose it is you I must thank for my being here tonight. A man may speak, but it is often a thought put in his mind by a clever woman."

He thought me a woman! I was definitely blushing then.

Father laughed. "My Emma is indeed a clever girl. She has one of the sharpest minds I have ever seen, and I have seen my share, as you know, Henry."

"But of course, Sir Danvers," nodded the doctor.

"Please, gentlemen, let me get you a drink," my father offered and motioned for the two men to follow him. Dr. Jekyll gave me a last smile and nod before trailing behind my father.

If I had been alone, I might have giggled with embarrassment and happiness, but as I was surrounded by all our guests, I had to exercise some control over myself. I joined Annette and wandered through the crowd with her, stopping here and there to chat with people I knew or those who asked for me.

Soon it was time for dinner, and as I sat at my place on Father's right, I was pleased to see Dr. Jekyll seated across from me and just a little ways down.

"A toast," began my father, holding his glass up, "that everyone may find peace on this holy day. Those who are here and those who have departed this life."

My hand began to shake, and tears pricked my eyes as I thought of my poor, beautiful mother. She should be here, sitting where I was at my father's side, celebrating the holiday with us! It should be her who led the carols and dances later that evening!

"Emma?" whispered Annette as everyone around us clinked their glasses together.

"I'm fine, Annette," I whispered back, quickly passing my hand across my eyes before any tears escaped down my cheeks. I sipped my champagne along with everyone else but found I couldn't even enjoy the taste or the feeling of the bubbles dancing across my tongue.

When dessert was served, I turned to my father, asking if I might be excused and then left the dining room and ducked into the small back parlour. I walked towards the mantle, where a photograph of my mother was displayed. A few tears escaped my eyes as I looked into her smiling face. She had always smiled for the photographer, waiting patiently for the light to flash. I let the the tears flow then and whispered to her smiling face, "Oh, Mother, I wish you were here with us now."

There was a gentle rap on the door and a voice said, "Miss Carew?"

I turned slowly, fearing that Simon had followed me. Instead, I saw Dr. Jekyll in the doorway. "Dr. Jekyll," I said in a voice quivering with emotion.

He entered the room and, to my surprise, closed the door behind him. It was scandalous for a girl my age to be alone with a man without a chaperon. "I noticed that your father's toast upset you," he said. "I wanted to be certain you were alright."

"I'll be fine," I assured him. "It just feels peculiar, almost wrong, not having my mother here."

He nodded in understanding. "Your mother was a lovely woman. It is natural you should feel a void now that she has passed. The first Christmas after my mother passed away was very difficult for my father and I. Your father is holding himself together very well."

"Father doesn't seem upset at all. In fact, he has been in good spirits for weeks."

"He has been very brave for your sake, Miss Carew. I will tell you that he is not often himself at the hospital."

How foolish and selfish I had been, thinking I was the only one feeling sorrow. Father loved Mother greatly, but he knew he had to carry on for my benefit. What good would he have done his daughter by allowing himself to fall to pieces?

"I have always believed the greatest thing you can do in honour of your loved ones who have passed from this life is to live," said Dr. Jekyll. "So live your life to its greatest potential, Miss Carew, and you will make your mother very proud."

I looked at him in awe. "Those are wise and beautiful words, Dr. Jekyll," I told him.

"I hope you can find some comfort in them. They have done me a great service as the years have gone by." He gestured towards the sofa then, asking, "Would you care to sit?"

I did, and he then settled himself in the chair facing me. He said, "I remember when I was a boy, my father would pull me along in my sled to the park near our house. We would get there just when the sun was rising, and we would be the only ones there. I used to sit in their laps and we would take turns sledding down the hill together. My father would carry me on his shoulders and my mother would sing Christmas carols as we walked home. "

I smiled at his story. "I always woke to the sound of my mother singing carols on Christmas morning. Sometimes she would have all the staff singing along with her, and it sounded like a choir of angels was in our home."

Dr. Jekyll smiled back at me. "You must remember these things your mother did to make life special whenever you feel sad."

"I shall," I said, promising him, myself, and my mother all at once.

"I am very grateful to you for having your father invite me this evening," he said suddenly. "It has been a hard year with my father, and it is nice to have such merry crowds around me."

"I thought that perhaps you needed some cheer, as I did," I told him.

"You thought right, Miss Carew. Thank you," he said.

"I should really be the one thanking you, once again for the diary, which truly has been a comfort, and now for these words of wisdom," I said. "I have a Christmas gift for you, if you will wait here."

He looked curious and assured me he would wait. I used the back stairs, as the guests had returned to the main hall and I didn't want to be seen. I fetched the scarf from my room and returned to the parlour in a hurry. "It is nothing much, but I made it myself, and I hope you will like it," I said as I handed it to him.

To my relief, he smiled and wrapped it around his neck. "This is wonderful, Miss Carew!" he declared. "Why, I was saying to Mr. Utterson as we stepped out from the coach this evening that I was in need of a new scarf as my other one had blown away." He removed it from his neck and folded it into a neat thick square of red wool. "Thank you, Miss Carew. A truly thoughtful gift."

"I'm so pleased you like it!" I said, flushing with pride.

"I am afraid I do not have a gift for you," said Dr. Jekyll apologetically.

"Don't be silly; you have already given me a wonderful gift," I told him. Reluctantly I added, "We had best return to the party now. I'm supposed to lead the carols; they're probably waiting for me."

"Of course. I shall take a moment to hang my new scarf with my coat. I expect I shall see you later this evening," said Dr. Jekyll. I nodded. He had not said it outright, but he was suggesting we return to the party separately in order to spare my reputation. Of course, it would probably not stop certain tongues from wagging.

"Ah, here she is!" Annette declared as I rejoined the party. "Do you feel better after your rest?"

"Oh, much better," I replied, playing along. Everyone seemed satisfied by this excuse for my absence except for Mrs. Stride, and I did not care what she thought.

"Let the caroling begin!" said my father. Annette took her place at the piano and I stood beside her. As we sang, my eyes wandered the room, and everyone seemed so merry and festive. The candles glowed, the ornaments on the tree shone, the servants were serving trays of cider and hot chocolate and wine. And when I saw Dr. Jekyll enter the room, I felt the smile on my face and the warmth deep within.

After a few songs, I announced, "I would like to sing this next carol in honour of my mother. It was her favorite, and it is mine as well." Annette played the introduction, and when I began to sing, no one joined me this time. They all watched me intently, and I felt my nerves beginning. I did my best to remain calm; I was so afraid that my voice would catch and I would embarrass myself in front of everyone.

Everyone applauded when the song was over, and as I smiled and curtsied, I stole a quick glance at Dr. Jekyll. There was a thoughtful smile on his face, but I dropped my gaze when his eyes met mine.

My father came to stand proudly beside me. "My daughter, my Emma, you have the voice of an angel, and it is not just a father's pride saying so. I am sure everyone here would agree?"

"Hear, hear!" the crowd answered and I blushed.

"Come, Emma, let's lead our guests in a dance," Father said, taking my hand and leading me to the center of the floor. The hired pianist took Annette's place as she followed us to the floor with a young gentleman. He struck up a lively tune and soon we were twirling about the room.

Dr. Jekyll appeared at my father's side and tapped his shoulder. "May I?" he asked.

"Of course, Henry," said Father, handing me off to the doctor with a smile. He turned away, saying, "Lady Beaconsfield, will you do me the honour?"

I felt my heart pounding as Dr. Jekyll took my hand and placed his other hand on my waist. I had never danced with anyone but my father. This was the first party where I was being treated more like a woman than a girl, being allowed to join the dances and stay up late.

As our feet began to move, I found it hard to keep my eyes locked with his, I was so nervous. My eyes were flitting all about the room, wondering who was watching us, who was speculating about the doctor's intentions.

My nerves were all too obvious for Dr. Jekyll laughed and my eyes were on him at once. "Miss Carew, you look like a frightened deer," he said. "I am almost surprised I did not startle you away with my laughter."

I smiled. "Forgive me, my mind was wandering. And you could not startle me away; I'm having such a wonderful time."

"I am glad to hear it," he said. "I was beginning to wonder if you found me an unsuitable dance partner."

"Not at all!" I replied. "I think you're an extraordinary dancer, Dr. Jekyll."

"You are quite enchanting yourself, Miss Carew," he replied with a smile.

The music ended and I dipped into a curtsy as Dr. Jekyll bowed to me. The pianist began another tune and before Dr. Jekyll could even step forward to take my hand again, Simon Stride suddenly appeared. "Might I have this dance, Miss Carew?" he said, reaching for my hand before I had even agreed.

Dr. Jekyll bowed his head to me and left me to Simon, and I took his hand reluctantly. He lead me in a spirited dance, and though I admit Simon dances well enough, I certainly did not enjoy myself. I was most relieved when the music ended and though he asked me to be his partner again, I excused myself, claiming I needed something to drink. I took a glass of cider and watched the dancers. I noticed Annette was dancing with Dr. Jekyll. Her face was pleasantly flushed and she was smiling prettily. She looked very beautiful, the glow of the candles reflected in her eyes and in her hair.

As I watched them, I felt tiny pricks of jealousy. I wish I did not feel this way. I care for Annette deeply. She is like having a lovely older sister. But then, I suppose even sisters must envy each other sometimes.

The evening went on and the music never seemed to stop. I danced with my Father many times throughout the night, and once with Simon again, once with Mr. Utterson, once with Annette's brother, and, to my delight, another _two_ times with Dr. Jekyll!

At one in the morning, people finally started to say goodnight. I could hardly believe how late it was for I still felt wide awake. At last, only the Baxters, the Strides, Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Utterson remained. Mrs. Stride had her eyes fixed on the doctor and his companion. I could imagine her voice shooing them out the door.

"Thank you for a wonderful evening, Sir Danvers," said Dr. Jekyll, shaking my father's hand.

"Always a pleasure to have you, Henry, John," replied Father. "No doubt we shall see each other again soon enough."

Mr. Utterson took my hand, wishing me a Merry Christmas and a good night, and then did the same for Annette. Dr. Jekyll kissed Annette's hand, which made her blush. Then it was my turn, and I shivered with delight inside when his lips brushed against my glove. "Until next time, Miss Carew," he said. "I hope it will not be a long wait."

"Merry Christmas, Dr. Jekyll," I told him, my voice practically a whisper.

"And to you. Thank you," he said, his other hand brushing the new red scarf wrapped around his neck. Rivers opened the door for them and they stepped out into the cold winter night. I noticed Annette staring at the doctor's scarf. I did not doubt that she recognized it.

As soon as they had left, the Strides made their presence known. "Splendid affair," said Mr. Stride.

"We all had a lovely time, Sir Danvers," Mrs. Stride put in. She pulled me towards her and wrapped me in a tight embrace, catching me by surprise. "Always delightful to see you, Emma."

"Thank you, Mrs. Stride," I choked out before she released me.

Simon snatched up my hand and kissed it, and this time I am very certain he left a wet spot. "I shall see you again soon, Miss Carew," he said directly.

I was glad to see them go. Annette's family left shortly afterward, and I went upstairs to get ready for bed.

Everyone else must surely be asleep by now, and so I feel free to sigh and laugh, as long as I remain quiet.

I heard Annette and her mother whispering as they hugged each other, and I am certain I heard them mention Henry. And, of course, I am certain I know which Henry they referred to.

I understand why Annette became fond of him so fast. Everything I have heard of him, he has lived up to. He is so charming and kind, always knowing just what to say. And his face! I think I stared at him so often this evening that I have memorized every little detail in that handsome face of his. The slope of his nose, the way he quirks his eyebrow when someone says something of interest or perhaps ignorance. The smile and warm brown eyes that melt my heart and make me feel as though I am made of tiny butterflies with beautiful fluttering wings.

I have now met him twice, and already I sense a stirring of feelings deep within me. The maids would call it love at first sight, believing as they do in such a thing from always reading those silly romance novels!

I do not think I could say I fell in love with him at first sight, but I feel a connection with him, something more than just an acquaintanceship. I wish I could share another moment with him like the one in parlour, just him and I alone. I do believe I could listen to him for hours, even if I did not always understand what he was saying. I want to get to know him, and I want him to know me. I hope he likes me, and has not just been kind to me for my father's sake.

Goodness, this has been a very long entry. I was so eager to write down all that happened I hadn't even realized how late it is or that my hand was becoming stiff from holding the pen for so long. So before I fall asleep at my desk and smudge the ink upon my cheek, I shall say goodnight.


End file.
